


all i’ve ever wanted

by Kierkegarden



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin is a brat, Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, I've somehow taken an action series and made it slice of life, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Power Imbalance, So much bickering, age gap, awkward elevator trope, canon compliant dialogue to a fault, implied attraction to underage character, mild dubcon/blurred lines, moral quandary, recurring motif: breath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/pseuds/Kierkegarden
Summary: In any other story, a militant order taught to refrain from the pull of desire - of love - would be the bad guys.orObi-Wan gives in to his desire for Anakin. Everything, promptly and uncompromisingly, goes to shit.





	all i’ve ever wanted

“Why can’t Jedi Knights fall in love?”

Obi-Wan’s heart consciously slowed to make up for the unnatural jolt. He could feel himself grow dizzy, staring out over the village, as he adjusted himself along the edge of the roof where they were sitting. He cleared his mind. Anakin couldn’t possibly understand daily struggle which he personally faced regarding this question.  _ Love. Possession.  _ Two sides of the same ill-fated coin. In any other story, a militant order taught to refrain from the pull of desire - of love - would be the bad guys. 

In his own mind, Obi-Wan was decidedly a good guy. Decidedly, good guys maintained control of their passions and urges. For the same reason, Jedi Knights were banned from such pursuits. The Jedi Order wasn’t in opposition to desire, per say, but desire - like other unstable diversions - could skip like a stone and in two easy steps, it could become corrupted. It was wise to catch it in its early stages and put an end to it. Obi-Wan would spend the next several years trying not to think about the boy’s gentle heartbeat in his arms as he reconciled the quandary.

“Why can’t Jedi Knights fall in love?” asked Anakin again. The boy, though impatient by nature, had probably thought that Obi-Wan hadn’t heard him over the whirring of machinery. They had stopped to train here in this isolated base, located directly next to a factory. It was an exercise in patience to say the least.

“It’s not that we lack the ability.” Obi-Wan smiled at his obvious retort. His tone softened as he explained. “Love, while it can seem wonderful at the time, leads to heartbreak. Heartbreak leads to revenge. Revenge is a state of hate, at its hottest and most vibrant. We must never give in to hate.”

Anakin rolled his eyes in exasperation. “So what are we supposed to do when we fall in love? Just ignore it?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “It is the greatest exercise in will that a Jedi can ever have the privilege of enduring.” He grimaced. It was hardly a privilege to act as the sole onlooker to his own emotional repression. His Padawan’s eyes scanned the skyline as he reclined peacefully. The Master felt his breath serate his lungs. Again, he forced it to slow to a natural pace.

“However,” he continued, “if you ever feel yourself falling in love, don’t hesitate to tell me. It’s better to let the feeling release so that you can control it and keep a clear head.”

He could at least offer the boy that which he longed for himself: some form of release.

Climbing further up the roof, Anakin looked down at his master skeptically. “What if,” he started, maintaining a steady grip on the tile, “I told you I was in love with Padme?” The boy’s eyes were still wide and innocent with childhood. He looked almost embarrassed to say it - the one redeeming piece of the ridiculous situation that stopped Obi-Wan from scoffing at him.

“I would tell you that you aren’t in love. Padme is beautiful and smart and was very kind to you when you were a child,” Obi-Wan looked at his Padawan earnestly, feigning distance,  “You are feeling  _ desire,  _ desire for someone to fill a gap in your life. Focus on finding it and fixing it yourself. You don’t need Padme to fill your gap.”

And I don’t need you to fill mine, he thought. The boy mumbled something under his breath about Obi-Wan not understanding him, and the Master put a hand on his shoulder. He did play the role so well, after all. 

 

\---

 

Anakin’s face was glowing with candlelight as he sat on the floor of the temple. He looked beautiful there, mesmerized by the flame. Obi-Wan had read once that those who stare at fire are likely to grow up to be arsonists. He didn’t care. It was his Padawan’s birthday, and while he was a man by all legal standards, his eyes were still that of a boy. Only the faintest glimmer of sadness separated him from his innocence. 

“I never liked my birthdays,” he admitted. 

Padme extended her hand to him, helping him up. “We can fix that.”

The senator’s face was dangerously close to Anakin’s and Obi-Wan felt the hot flame of jealousy flare within him. A protective instinct, he assured himself, the boy was still young and desire for Padme could so easily corrupt him.

“I got you something,” she cooed, “A memento for while you’re out at war.”

Reaching into her satchel, she produced a small pendant. Clearly inspired by the one around her own neck, it was made of obsidian and carved with symbols. Anakin looked away, blushing.

“What a nice thought, Padme,” Obi-Wan said through gritted teeth, “but Jedi don’t take mementos.”

“My apologies,” her voice was sugar. This is why he hated politicians, “but I thought something small like this…” she trailed off. Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Just this once, Master,” he put his arm around her - what could Obi-Wan do, really? - sending him daggers through their force bond, “Can you lighten up?”

Obi-Wan sighed. As much as he would like to tell himself that this was for his Padawan’s best interest, he couldn’t deny that he had a personal stake in the matter. Thankfully, this time, those interests overlapped. He tactfully ignored it.

“You may keep the token at the base.” He stated flatly, “It will only get in the way on missions.”

Padme smiled graciously, a lie told with the magnitude of the one that the Master told himself, “Thank you, Master Kenobi.”

Later that night, Obi-Wan caught her alone, on the way to the ‘fresher. He breathed the cool night air in through the open window, illuminated against the bright skyline. The air here in Coruscant was stale, tainted with the stench of city and the lights never shut off. He had grown used to worse conditions.

“Senator Amidala,” he greeted her coolly.

“Master Kenobi,” she acknowledged. 

They stood there for a moment in silence before speaking again.

“He doesn’t truly love you,” the words came out harsher than he would have liked, revealing the edge of emotion behind them, “You have to know that.”

A thin smile curved across her lips. “With all due respect, Master, I don’t think you’re an unbiased source here.”

His face fell grave, as he struggled to tame the hate rising within him. Fortunately for her, he was well-trained in it. 

“This needs to stop.” he gestured at her with his hand, freezing halfway lest she think he was using the Force against her. Lest his hand slip and he use it accidentally. That wouldn’t be good. “Anakin has an important role to play in a game far greater than the one you’re playing with him.”

“What about the game _ you’re _ playing with him? Does that cease as well?” her eyes pierced through him before she turned on her heel and marched swiftly down the hall.

 

\--

 

There was a certain splendor in watching the boy grow up to be this way, Obi-Wan thought to himself, a metamorphosis of sorts. One day, it seemed, Anakin was in a chrysalis of innocence, the next he was spitting venom at his Master’s every criticism. The next, it would seem, he was on top of his stomach, biting his neck and breathing all kinds of profanities into his ear. 

It had, admittedly, been a long week of training and nothing had gone right for the boy. Obi-Wan had felt the anger growing within his apprentice, and it was now clearly at a breaking point. It was unfortunate that Obi-Wan was able to reconcile it somehow, or else he might have been utterly righteous. In fact, if it was anyone else, he was certain that he would be righteous. 

“Something troubling you, Master?” Anakin’s voice was barely a whisper as he smirked down at his mentor.

Obi-Wan did not respond. It could have been combat training, and might as well have been. Perhaps that would have been to go-to reconciliation if he was the one smirking and holding Anakin at the wrists. 

That, of course, would never fly. The boy was still young and vain and overcome by his own delusions of grandeur. At least he couldn’t be blamed for abusing his authority when he was put in such a position. Struggling for breath under his weight, the Master looked calmly into the face of his apprentice, overcome with lust and hate and desire; everything that the Jedi Order stood against. But then, Anakin had never liked to play by the rules. Obi-Wan frowned. 

His apprentices breath was so hot that Obi-Wan could feel it burn behind his ears as he rubbed against him.  _ Blaze _ , the friction - he inhaled sharply. His Padawan straightened in suspicion and he fell silent.

“You’re not going to scold me? Try and get out?”

Obi-Wan took the moment free of pressure on his chest to enjoy a long deep breath, “Perhaps I’m hoping that you’ll come to the conclusion that this is wrong of your own accord.” In all his years training to be a Jedi master, there was nothing that had prepared him for this. 

“Perhaps not.” Anakin frowned and for a brief moment the child returned, eyes wide and helpless, a puppet to his own fear. Then, his face sunk as his body dropped to maintain an iron grip. Pulling Obi-Wan’s tunic up along the side, he ran a ticklish finger across his bare flesh.

The older man nodded in agreement. “Perhaps not. But what kind of mentor would I be if I didn’t give my apprentice space to learn?”

“You’re enjoying this.” Anakin lorded over him accusingly, taking in the scent of his skin as he kissed his mentor slowly, on the mouth this time. He sighed with satisfaction. Obi-Wan’s face was still stone.

“I did not say that.” He could have gotten out. There was that small part of him that still wanted to. It wouldn’t be terribly difficult. He was far more experienced than the boy and had the element of surprise. To his own horror, he remained put. At least his face did not fail him. Years of Jedi training had served him well in this way and he maintained an impartial gaze, as stoic as possible.

“I can feel you feeling it,  _ Master _ ,” Anakin spat the title disdainfully, “I don’t need you to say it.”

Again, Obi-Wan frowned, arching slightly in defeat. It was harder, he thought to himself, to keep his head level while Anakin was so clearly bothered by it. He revelled the boy’s frustration. Obi-Wan was not too old to enjoy power play, which might have been part of the problem. When Anakin kissed him again, harder this time, he savored it.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” Anakin continued, his tone halfway between an accusation and pillow-talk, “You’ve been wanting this since I came of age - probably since before that - you’ve dreamt of it. You’d never dare touch me, with your convoluted notion of love and right and wrong, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t wanted to. You’ve wanted to touch me for a long, long time.”

He wasn’t wrong. Obi-Wan still had dreams about the boy, ravishing him, being possessed by him, filling that gap. 

“I would urge you to reconsider your actions, Anakin.” Dreams, of course, existed on a very different plane than reality. 

He could feel Anakin’s weight against him suddenly lessen, as he drew himself up in disgust. Obi-Wan’s body remained fixed to the floor with that unseen pressure. His mind began to swim with images, a direct transmission of consciousness. His legs in the air, held in place by that phantom bond, Anakin fucking him relentlessly, in humiliating positions, long into the night. 

“Yes of course,  _ Master.”  _ he heard his apprentice spit, as he was released, snapping back into the present.

“You shouldn’t have disrespected the Force like that. It has its own Will.” Obi-Wan’s voice was gratingly soft.

“You shouldn’t have enjoyed it,” was Anakin’s sardonic reply.

 

\---

 

Months passed without them speaking of it. Before long, it was as if that night had never happened. The boy was impatient, quick to anger, and even cruel at times, but he was learning. His innate distaste for being criticized made him difficult to teach, however, and Obi-Wan could feel them wearing on eachothers’ patience.

Anakin stood, arms crossed, leaning against the table. He frowned down at his master who sat there finishing a cup of tea. It was one of those vulnerable moments where they were just two people sharing a morning. No battleships, no sword fights, just a brief period of rest between missions. Of course Anakin was pouting. 

“They’re sending me to escort Padme back to Naboo?” the boy laughed bitterly, “and you to seek the bounty hunter alone?”

“That’s correct.”

“I’m glad the Council has so much faith in me.” Anakin wrinkled his nose in distaste, “Still,” he added, perking up, “I can’t see how the mission won’t be enjoyable, being all alone with a beauty such as herself.”

Obi-Wan breathed out, long and slow through his mouth. It all came down to breath, really. Abolishing the love, the hate, the jealousy? Impossible. Controlling it, however, was a matter of regrounding. He cleared his mind, finding peace.

“I will warn you again, young Padawan, that seeking love from Padme will lead to your termination from the Jedi Order.”

Anakin groaned, falling into the chair beside his master. “Then convince them to let me come with you. I’d rather go after the one who tried to murder her anyway.”

“I’m sure Padme would be more than impressed by you taking her home. That’s dangerous enough as it is.” Obi-Wan straightened the tablecloth, his lip curling into a smirk.

Anakin caught it. “Dangerous to me, or to my position as your apprentice, Master?”

Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan rose. Perhaps he was growing too old for power struggles, after all. Either way, he was worn out and tired of spending his rare break fighting. Anakin would do what he would, and ultimately, he had no say in the matter. Attempts to sway him would just make him angry.

“Get the ships ready, Anakin,” he called over his shoulder, “You leave tomorrow.”

“Take me with you, Master. I wouldn’t want to risk my banishment,” the boy followed him down the hallway, quickly falling into stride. His face was a challenge, a dare, an  _ I Know Your Secret,  _ Obi-Wan swallowed, quickly realizing that the boy was toying with him.

“The Council has assigned you to escort the senator to Naboo.” Obi-Wan’s pace quickened as he made his way towards the elevator. Anakin pushed the button for him.

“Master, I have a confession, I told you once before, I think, that I  _ love  _ Padme.”

He was insufferable sometimes.  _ Why? _ Did his apprentice think he would get his way by pressing this? Obi-Wan was just one member of the Council and the Council had already decided. He counted breath. Of course Anakin knew that  _ he _ wouldn’t choose to separate them.

“I will tell you as I told you before, your love for Padme is just your mind trying to fill a hole in your life. Find that hole and fill it yourself.”

Anakin’s eyes flashed with recognition as his voice lowered, “Who’s filling yours?”

Obi-Wan straightened and brushed past him as the elevator ground to a halt. “That’s enough, Anakin.”

 

\---

 

The boy had changed. While his recklessness had not quite gone away, his mastery of the Force - of himself - had grown tremendously over the course of their time at war together. Obi-Wan couldn’t help feeling a swell of pride within him as he gazed out the window into the vast grey cityscape of Coruscant. His love for the boy - he was sure of it now, clear as the morning sun, he felt it, the deep, true burn - was his own struggle to master. Today, he would watch his Padawan become his equal in front of the Council. Even as equals - _ especially as equals _ \- he could not allow himself to come too close. 

“Anakin, you’re late.” He could sense the boy’s presence behind him before he heard his footsteps. Anakin brushed past him towards the window, groaning at the curt greeting.

“When the council requests your presence,” Obi-Wan continued in the same pedantic tone, “it is always of great importance.”

This is how it was. Love under a veil of disinterest, peaking at mild annoyance. If Anakin felt anything in return, it was always delivered with a side helping of sarcasm. Just as Obi-Wan had always aimed for: a fence to keep out anything dangerous.

“If I’m late for another scolding, does it really matter?”

He was going to be knighted today, anyway. The bickering, the biting comments, the lowered eyes. It was fitting for the achievement. Did Anakin deserve it? Was he ready?  _ Did it matter? _ The fact that this conversation was taking place before the ceremony almost felt like another tradition, tacked on, a last homage to their fucked up apprenticeship.

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with the boy, lamented Obi-Wan, and  _ Force _ , would he have given anything to fall out of it. 

That night, he could sense his presence again, hesitating outside of his chambers. 

` “You can come in, Anakin,” he called softly, before he could knock.

The door pushed open with a creak. Anakin looked tired, soft blond hair, freshly freed from the Padawan braid, in disarray. His sleep clothes, slightly too big, hung loosely off his shoulder. He slunk down on the bed next to his former Master, still managing to seem haughty while his face looked unsure.

Obi-Wan laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, “What’s troubling you?”

He tensed, as if positioning himself to slink away but then settled into it.

“Am I really ready to be a Jedi Knight?”

Obi-Wan breathed in the role of Mentor, perhaps for the last time. “The Council has decided that you are ready, and ready or not - you  _ are _ a Jedi Knight now.”

Anakin was trembling. The older man tossed him a blanket and much to his surprise, the gesture wasn’t rejected. He could feel the Anakin’s vulnerability through the Force, his fear - forbidden by the Order.  _ Fuck the Order.  _ Anakin was young and too powerful for his own good and it was only natural to feel these things in the dawn of his new achievement.

At length, he spoke again, “Do  _ you _ think I’m ready?”

Obi-Wan breathed out slowly. “You already know what I think, Anakin. Search your feelings.” His hand on the boy’s shoulder tightened its grip affirmatively. 

Anakin turned to face him again. “I love you too, Master.”

Their eyes met.

_Fuck the Order,_ Obi-Wan thought again, as he leaned in to kiss Anakin gently. The younger man's lips were warm and soft, moving hungrily around his own to deepen the kiss. _Force,_ Obi-Wan thought headily, not caring that Anakin would likely sense it. He’d dreamt of this for so long. He let the forbidden feelings consume him, burning through his entire body, as Anakin moaned softly into his mouth.

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s heartbeat racing, as his kissed a trail across his chest. He felt those strong arms encircle him, pulling him once again upwards. The younger man fumbled with the tie on his robe, purring with satisfaction as it fell to the ground. He felt Anakin’s force signature push him back towards the headboard, as he curled up between his legs.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started breathily, “Would you like me to touch you?”

The new Knight shivered, basking in his warmth. He nodded. 

“ _ Please,  _ Master.”

“You don’t have to call me Master anymore,” Obi-Wan smiled, calm but warm. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Anakin retorted, “You’ve always wanted to fuck me as my superior.”

He inhaled sharply as Obi-Wan’s fingers ran across his bare skin.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, struggling to keep his voice steady, “Maybe,” he whispered as he quickened the pace, “You just want to be fucked as my inferior.”

“Maybe I do.” Anakin replied sharply. He arched his back into the touch, his skin burning hot against Obi-Wan’s, “Maybe that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

\--

 

“Take me with you,” Anakin begged for the last time, as they lay together one evening, “you can’t let them keep me here in the middle of a war.”

Obi-Wan sighed. No matter how many times he assured his old apprentice that he was not in charge of the Council’s collective will, the boy did not relent. Even now that he had been taken on as an honorary member and was fully privy to its internal order, he was not satisfied.

“You know that your assignment was to stay here,” he stroked Anakin’s hair lovingly, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You don’t know that,” Anakin’s eyes brimmed with concern as he propped his head up on his hands.

“Don’t be morbid, love. The Council has faith that the Force will see me through this one.” Obi-Wan smiled softly. He wondered if the boy would ever stop seeing these assignments as personal slights. 

Anakin flipped onto his back, laying his head on Obi-Wan’s chest. “Why don’t they have faith in me?”

“You’re young, Anakin,” he kissed the top of his head, burying his face in his hair, “and advantageously close to the Chancellor. You know that. You have a different job to do.”

Anakin frowned. It wasn't enough. “I want them to trust me,” he mumbled, “to go with you.”

“Me too,” the older man held him close, “but right now they’re trusting you with something even more important. Don't fail them.”

“I won't,” Anakin assured him. “Fail you, that is. Fuck the Council.”

Obi-Wan kissed the shell of his ear tenderly. “That's my boy.”

 

\---

 

He had pleaded with Yoda to send someone else, but they were all gone now, returned to the Force which had failed them. Besides, he had been the one who had trained Anakin from his boyhood years, who knew his weaknesses. He was the one best suited to destroy him. No other Jedi could possibly understand that Obi-Wan was helpless against him. The dark side of the Force loomed vague and threatening, a weight on his heart. The Jedi Master didn’t need it to know that he couldn’t lay a hand on Anakin -  _ his  _ Anakin - but he supposed it didn’t matter now. Anakin had taken that power and destroyed himself.

As soon as Obi-Wan had seen the boy for himself, he had known that he had changed. His heart slowed to deadly crawl as he watched from the ship, the boy silhouetted by fire. It mocked him. 

“I love you!” Padme yelled, searching for Anakin inside the body the monster was wearing. It was no use. His old apprentice, eyes alight with power and adrenaline, seized the pregnant senator by her throat. If only Obi-Wan had been beside him, to guide him, to barter with him, if only he had been permitted. He felt sick. 

“Let her go, Anakin.” Obi-Wan commanded. For once, Anakin listened to his old mentor, letting Padme drop by his feet and focussing wholly towards him. “You turned her against me!” His breath was erratic and his face contorted.

How would he? He was nothing to the girl as she was nothing to him, connected only by their mutual love of Anakin. It was that same jealousy that kept them apart that was coursing through Anakin now, a jealousy that had rapidly devolved into hate, a jealousy that could only be rooted in love. Obi-Wan had taught him to embrace that feeling by example. He had failed.

“You turned her against yourself.” His reply was flat. He was disgusted by the scene, by the look in Anakin’s eyes, by his failure and by the betrayal. If only he had gotten back sooner, he might have had the influence to stop this. The hole which Anakin had once filled felt suddenly vacant and it affected him as though a liver or kidney was pulled from his body. So this was heartbreak. Instead of hate, he felt nothingness.

 

\--

 

Luke looked as idealistic as his father had at his age. He also had his father’s rash ambition and bravery. Unlike his father, he possessed a soft sort of kindness that Anakin had never known. Perhaps a trait of Padme, the Master thought.

Ben Kenobi felt a distant attachment to the boy that could be felt through the Force or even seen in his sad, tired eyes. The feeling was impersonal, a souvenir from an old adventure and at the same time, a tiny piece of hope. It went beyond any prophecy. 

He was a drifter now, a traveler in someone else’s story. This time, he thought to himself, he would tread lightly and let the Force carry out its will. This time would be different. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing for the Star Wars fandom - so naturally here's 4k words of angsty two character dialogue. I hope I didn't tread too heavily on commonly-hated tropes. Please let me know what you think!


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